This Cursed Blessing
by SayuriMae
Summary: AU. Lucia Amell was there for Anders in his time of need. He intends to return the favor, no matter the obstacles.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Hello readers! I'm Sarah, aka Sayuri, aka the author. I'm sixteen, and this is my first fanfiction since, gosh, 8th grade? It was either Twilight or something equally embarrassing, I can't remember. Sorry Twihards! A bit about the story. It's a plausible AU where Anders and F!Amell were friends before ever becoming Wardens. I promise plenty of AndersxF!Amell, some CullenxF!Amell, and maybe some AndersxCullen if I'm feeling naughty *wink*. To quote one of my favorite authors here, Amhran Comhrac, the Maker smiles on those who review!_

_Bioware owns Dragon Age and all its bits and pieces._

Funny, the Fade seems much less ominous when I'm snuggled up in my bed. After being thrown in by the templars as demon bait, the it looks downright creepy. I would be surprised if the bloody templars waited five minutes before running me through.

"Well, I better get started!"

My voice sounded muffled in the thick atmosphere of the Fade, and I felt my shoulders tense. "This is no time to scare yourself, Anders," I muttered as I began following the vague path before me.

The Harrowing is supposed to be a test of ability, forcing mages and demons together as a precaution. Conveniently for the Chantry, it also kills a few mages in the process. I've never been one to turn down a challenge, but it would be nice if I were given some direction on what to do. Perhaps a guidebook? The Fade is supposed to be chock full of demons, why can't one just show up so I can kill it and leave this infernal place!

No sooner than I thought that, I saw a figure running towards me. The form was fuzzy, but didn't look like a demon. As it grew closer, the vision solidified and I could recognize its features.

"Jowan?"

He bent at the waist and panted like a dog. He always was a bit of a sissy.

"A-Anders? Thank the Maker. C-come, it's Lucia!"

Before I even knew what I was doing, my feet moved to follow Jowan. Why was she even in the Fade? My mind told me not to trust anyone while inside the Fade, but even the slightest possibility sickened me. Jowan stopped and I followed suit. We both stared up in horror. Lucia struggled in a noose that seemed to hang in thin air, shades lunging at her feet from below. Without even hesitating, I cast a fireball at the group of shades, who writhed about before sinking into the ground. However, more appeared within a matter of seconds.

"Anders, please! Help me!" Lucia shrieked, her dusky blue eyes welling up with tears. Damn it all, there was nothing quite as distressing as a woman in tears. I knew it was likely a trap, but that knowledge didn't make the scene less gut-wrenching.

"You can save her, you know." came a voice behind me, sultry and soothing. I turned around to see Jowan grinning at me seductively. He began to change before my eyes, his skin shimmering like a mirage before his entire body burst into light. When the form regained itself, it was no longer Jowan. Not by a long shot. A Desire Demon, with a sinfully decadent body and haunting, cat-like eyes. I was equally enraptured and repulsed by the creature. Either way, I couldn't help but be relieved imaginary Jowan wasn't the one making sexy eyes at me.

"Ah, there's a demon! Now, if you don't mind, I'm here to kill you so I can leave this creepy place."

The creature kept rocking her hips back and forth, her unblinking eyes pierced through my bravado. "Come now, surely you wouldn't abandon your lovely little mage?"

"That isn't really Lucia. Anyway, she isn't mine."

"That's right, but you can have her. All you need is power, then she will be forced to recognize you." The demoness brought her snaking tail to her lips, allowing it to caress her face. "Jowan has already made a pact here. He has tapped into power beyond your dizziest daydreams. It's only a matter of time before Lucia falls for him. I wonder if he'll use her for a blood ritual someday... make her his thrall." The demon trailed off, a low chuckle escaping her lips.

I glared at her, power beginning to crackle from my fingertips. "That bastard. He will not lay a finger on her."

"Yes, and you must be the one to protect her. All you need to do is accept me, then your desire for power... your desire for her... they will all be fulfilled."

The demoness' promises began to ring hollow in my mind. I couldn't help it, I smiled. "That's where your wrong. See, the thing about Lucia is..." The power coursing through me reached its peak, and I cast a shockwave at the temptress. "...she can protect herself."

The creature let out a shriek of pain, which trailed off into a distant echo. The bright light of the Fade swirled then dimmed, until I was left alone in darkness. My body felt heavy, and it was a while before I could force my eyelids open. When my vision finally came into focus, I propped myself up on my shoulders and immediately regretted the decision, head swimming.

"Lucia?"

"Anders, you're finally awake." She sighed with relief, uncrossing her arms.

"Arg, yeah. How were you so chipper after yours? I feel like I could sleep for a week."

"Well, you've slept for four days, that's almost a week."

I was suddenly aware of how awful I must smell. "Ah, well, thank you for waking me up then, Lucia."

She nodded and began to gather the various bits of rubbish cluttering my nightstand. "First Enchanter Irving and the Knight-Commander wanted to see you."

I groaned. "Ah, yes, I'd imagine old Greggy is quite upset I didn't turn into an abomination and he couldn't just kill me."

Lucia scowled at me. "I'm sure he doesn't want you dead. So you escaped a few times, it just means your a capable mage, right?"

I slowly got out of bed and scratched my head. "Yes, just what the templars want, more 'capable' mages. Anyway, I'd better go find Irving before they decide passing my Harrowing wasn't just a fluke."

I left her to her own devices; too much chit-chat ruins all that sexual tension. Bah, who am I kidding? Subtly is lost on on her. Sometimes it's hard to believe she could burn down the entire Circle Tower if she wanted to.

As I walked down the stone halls, I could feel all the apprentices whispering about me. Typically, mages are congratulated for passing their Harrowing. Of course, there were plenty of young women waving and commending my bravery. Well, the ones I hadn't already slept with. I couldn't blame the ones that eyed me with bewilderment, however. I was just as surprised as them that I didn't die. To the templars at least. Their swords were always a more immediate danger than any demon's corruption.

I entered Irving's study to see him seated at his desk, massaging his temples, as Commander Greagoir paced around the room, looking cross as ever.

"Ah, Anders, welcome." Irving stood as I entered, giving a slow nod of acknowledgement. "And congratulations on passing your Harrowing." He shot a pointed look at Greagoir, who stopped pacing.

"Congratulations," the templar grumbled, sulking.

"Thank you, First Enchanter!" I said with a cheerful grin, giving a small bow with a flourish. Greagoir rolled his eyes under those fuzzy, caterpillar eyebrows. I ignored him as usual and continued, "So, are you going to give me my room key, stick, and fancy clothes so I can get out of here?"

Irving gave me a vacant stare, unamused. "There are great responsibilities that come with full mageship, you know that. Most of the adult mages teach, how-"

"However," Greagoir interrupted, "We believe that allowing you to teach the apprentices would be... most unwise."

I shrugged. "Works for me."

Irving sighed, exasperated. "We also cannot have you idling around the tower all day. That is why-"

A knock on the door interrupted Irving for the second time. He motioned to Greagoir, who opened the heavy wooden door. A young templar entered, his greaves clanking against the stone floor. He held his hands behind his back, stiff as a board.

"Why, hello Cullen!" I greeted with a wink.

He shifted his feet awkwardly. "Hullo, ser mage."

Irving scowled but quickly regained his stoic demeanor. "Yes, thank you for coming, Cullen. As I was saying, we have decided to let you tutor a few apprentices and mages, Anders."

"_Private _tutoring?" My voice cracked a bit from surprise.

"And Cullen will supervise."

"What?" Cullen and I responded in unison.

Greagoir glared pointedly at Cullen, who coughed uncomfortably. "I mean, of course, First Enchanter."

Despite Cullen's polite acceptance, his face was a mix of anger and incredulity. Of all the templars who loathed me, Cullen might be the worst. Well, I suppose all templars naturally hate mages, but only a select few held personal grudges against me. It was no secret that Cullen pined for a certain young mage which I happened to hold a tentative friendship with. Lucia Amell was far from being one of my secret paramours, but Cullen saw even a passing 'hello' as a ploy to bed the young mage. Not that I did not want to, quite the contrary. She was beautiful, with long silvery-blue hair and an elegant, heart-shaped face. Unlike the other mages, the gilded cage she resided in hadn't turned her soft. Her rational attitude and almost unnatural lack of fear made her both admirable and desirable to many. Regardless, Cullen's puppy-love was simply too pitiful to ignore. I would often tease him, sometimes making up outrageous lies about Lucia just to make his ears red.

While Cullen openly sulked, I was only slightly perturbed, and did not begin complaining to Irwin. He politely urged us out of his study, handing over my key, robes, and staff, and told me where to be for tutoring the next day. I assumed I would be teaching healing magic, a skill many mages passed over in favor of fireballs and other explosive talents. The rest of the day was spent half-heartedly planning a lesson for tomorrow and making my status as a Harrowed mage known to all those apprentices who had given me condescending stares for far too long.


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Hello loves! Here's chapter two. I'm sorry it's a bit short, but chapter three is about 2,500 words. Can't you tell I wrote this as one big chunk_? _Anyway, please review/fave/watch. Thank you!_

_Bioware owns all these adorable killers... plus the Dog and Shale. :D_

The halls were already dark and empty when I finally moved all my belongings from the apprentice hall to my new mage quarters. I barely remembered my family, so I had very few sentimental baubles to relocate. The majority of my possessions, excluding necessities such as robes and potions, were books. I did not consider myself a scholar by any means, but there was a simple joy in reading another's thoughts as my own. I opened my dresser drawer and extracted a book. The title's lettering was peeling in places and the once uniform edges were rounded with use, but the leather binding still held strong. I placed the book carefully in my rucksack, not trusting the Tranquil mage assigned to retrieve my things. The book had its own merit, but it was how I received it that made it special.

It was two days after one of my escape attempts. I had been banished to the dungeon, Irwin's equivalent of a timeout. I may possess a superior amount of mental fortitude, but the imprisonment had begun to drive me slightly stir-crazy. Cullen had been assigned to guard my cell, a situation he was surely overjoyed with. Through the stone wall, I could hear indistinct voices. Curious, I pressed my ear to the stone.

"I'm sorry, M-mistress Amell, but I cannot allow..."

"Please Cullen, I only want to give him a few things."

"He's a prisoner, not ill. He need not have trinkets to occupy himself or... or visitors." I could feel my own chest tense in the heavy silence that followed.

The mage spoke again, gently, like a mother comforting her crying child. "I only wish that, if I were ever in his position, someone would care enough to grant a respite from my loneliness... If only for a moment."

I could almost see Cullen shifting about uncomfortably in my mind. A beautiful woman's plea can bypass all armor and strike even the strongest man's heart. I briefly wondered whether the Amell girl truly sympathized with a random maverick mage or if everything she had said was just a charade to manipulate Cullen. But for what? Before I could think too deeply on the matter, the heavy door separating the dungeon from my slightly brighter prison opened. I could hear Cullen clearly now and no longer needed to strain my ears.

"Fifteen minutes, no more. And if I hear even a hint of anything... worrisome you, well, there will be consequences."

The pretty mage bowed her head in gratitude. "Thank you, Ser Cullen."

With a short curtsy, she began to cautiously descend the stone steps slick with Maker knows what. The only light source were crude torches that gave off a dim, orange glow. When she finally came into sight, her face half obscured in shadow, I couldn't help but wonder at how eerily beautiful she looked. The flames brought out the blue in her silver hair, contrasting with her porcelain skin. Her steely eyes were nearly black in the dungeon and flitted about like fireflies. I realized she couldn't see as well as I in the dark, so I called out to her.

"Why are you here for me?"

She turned her head towards me and walked until her fingers grasped at the rusty metal bars. Carefully, the curious mage sank to her knees and hugged a cloth satchel to her chest. "You must be lonely, right?"

I scoffed at her unprovoked pity. "Must I? There are plenty of rats to keep me company. And let's not forget the fleas."

She only blinked in response, her mouth pursed in dissatisfaction. "I can't imagine they make very good company at all."

With a sigh, I stretched my arm through the barrier between us. "Very right you are. I'm Anders."

She gave my hand a short squeeze, her fingers warm compared to my numb ones. "My name is Lucia Amell. Pleased to meet you."

"Yes, this meeting is _quite _pleasant." I said dully. She gave me only the faintest of smiles before fumbling through the bag in her lap.

I eyed her with suspicion. "You never did tell me why you are here, you know."

She dropped her bag with a thud and crossed her arms, looking me directly in the eye. "I want to know what it's like. The world outside of the Circle, I mean."

"Wet. Cold. Smells like dog. Why do you want to know? Most of the other mages here seem perfectly content with their lot."

"_You_ mustn't be content to escape."

"Well, I'm not especially happy, no, but life here isn't terrible. A change of scenery is nice, sure, but mages simply don't _belong _there." Her gaze remained fixed on my face, as if some universal truth were written across it.

"My great-grandfather was a healer."

It was now my turn to stare. She dismissed my confusion with a quick shake of the head. "He was also an apostate. He traveled across Ferelden as an apothecary, and occasionally he would come across a patient who didn't respond to traditional treatments. Those were the times when he turned to the arcane. The people who witnessed his power embraced him as often as they persecuted him out of fear." Lucia pulled a tattered, leather-bound book out of her satchel. She caressed it with her fingertips, tracing the embossment which read 'Property of Clinton Amell'.

Lucia continued to gaze at the book as she spoke. "You are free to borrow it... if you'd like."

My eyebrows rose in surprise. "N-no, I couldn't possibly-"

She shoved the journal between the bars of my cage unceremoniously, and began to straighten herself from her kneeling position. "I'd like you to read it, Anders. Whenever I contemplated giving myself over to the templars and ending it all..." She was no longer speaking directly to me, but I clung to every word. "...That's when I would read, because it convinced me mages _do _have a place in this world."

She turned to face me once more, her mouth curved in a smile but her eyes remained curiously dead. "This place is a prison enough without being trapped in a dungeon."

At that moment Cullen decided to open the door above, flooding the dark crypt with a blinding light. Lucia gathered herself and gave me a quick nod goodbye before making her way back to the surface.


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Hello readers! Here's a monster of a chapter (at least by my standards). I love seeing how many people have read this, and from all over the world! It makes me feel all tingly inside. I'd really love to get some reviews, positive or negative! Well, negative in a constructive way. I may even return the favor _:)

_Bioware owns Thedas and all of its inhabitants. _

I awoke the next morning earlier than any rational human being should. My new quarters faced the east, so I was the first to greet the new day. Lucky me. I made a mental note to ask Owain for a set of curtains before grabbing my materials and heading for the library. I occasionally visited for research and other, less scholarly pursuits. I had barely reached the archway that led to the library when I heard a cold voice from behind.

"I was ordered to meet you, Anders."

I nearly stumbled into a shelf at the sound, then relaxed when I saw it was only one of the Tranquil mages.

"Maker's breath. Does the Rite take away manners as well?"

"No, the Rite of Tranquility did not affect my knowledge of appropriate custom. I apologize for any discomfort."

I began to say something, but quickly dismissed the impulse. Arguing with a Tranquil was like arguing with a brick wall.

"No matter. Why are you here again?"

"To relay a message. Ser Cullen and the other students will meet you in the third instruction room. I am to escort you there."

"From one nanny to another. Peachy." I muttered under my breath.

"I do not recall ever supervising children. However, I cannot speak for Ser Cullen."

I grimaced. In all honesty, I would pity the Tranquil mages much more if they weren't so infuriatingly literal. Resigning from the argument, I gestured for my Tranquil guide to lead the way.

Upon entering instruction room, I saw Cullen with four mages who I assumed to be my pupils. One was a burly fellow who could likely bludgeon his enemies as easily as setting them on fire. His hair only amounted to sparse fuzz which covered an egg-shaped skull. Next to him stood an elven girl, whose frame seemed comically small in comparison. Unlike most elves who possessed an almost willowy bearing, this girl curled into herself like a frightened child. Her short, blonde hair and watery eyes blended with her pallid face, and she had fit herself between a column and the wall.

I also spied two familiar faces among my charges: Jowan and Lucia. Jowan was a mediocre mage at best and had always struggled with Creation magic. His appearance was more an annoyance than surprise. However, Lucia's involvement caught me off-guard. She had always excelled in her studies, to the point where many labeled her a 'teacher's pet'. It was easy for strangers to hold her in contempt, jealous of her unbridled natural ability. Though partially true, Lucia spent the majority of her free time in the library studying Magical Philosophy and other dreadfully boring volumes. I had no right to complain, either way, since her presence would surely prove entertaining. Even if she decided to shun my attentions, there would always be opportunities to embarrass Cullen.

As a student, I always put forth minimal effort and tried my best to avoid the teacher's attention. That is, however, until I decided to disrupt class just for shits and giggles. Being on the other side of things was both unnerving and invigorating with its promise of power. I cleared my throat, dragging both myself and the others out of our early morning stupor.

"Ah. Well then. I am Anders, as most of you already know. The tower isn't _that _large... Anyway, I am here to teach you... healing magic?" I looked to Cullen instinctively, before disregarding his input and continuing on. "That's right, healing magic. It is only a formality, but why don't you all introduce yourselves? You know, names and interests and all that."

I only realized how rushed I must have sounded after I taking a sharp breath afterwards. I made a mental note to ignore any nerves I might have, with the hope that they would disappear as a result. In the midst of my musings, the brawny one stepped forward, arms straight along his sides like planks of wood.

"Ichor Weston. My interests are none of your business, Messer." He held out a hand, which I took hesitantly. Despite my caution, his 'friendly' handshake still managed to make my fingers ache.

I saw Jowan sidle away from Ichor, and I could hardly blame him. "I'm Jowan, which you already knew. My interests... well... magic?" His voice cracked at the last word, and I could feel myself scowling in shared embarrassment.

I looked at the elven girl expectantly, which only caused her to give a nervous twitch. After clearing her throat, she began, "Er, my name is Tawna. I um, I don't have any interests really. Well, I do, but I'm sure you wouldn't want to hear about them. They are all pretty generic. Um... can I stop talking now? I always talk too much when I'm nervous. Oh, well that just sounded weird... um... yes." With that, Tawna slipped out of sight before I could even register what she was saying.

I waited for Lucia to speak, but she was otherwise occupied, paying attention to every minute detail in the room except for the people inside. I cleared my throat and she turned to face me, eyes big and round like a startled deer's. "Yes?" she finally answered.

"Introduce yourself to the others, Lucia."

"Ah. Of course," she said with a curt nod. "My name is Lucia Amell. I'd say my favorite thing to do is read, or research, but then again that normally involves reading." She chuckled at her own small joke, but stopped and frowned once she noticed all the strange looks she was getting.

I clapped my hands together, grabbing the attention of my new charges. "So, why don't we get started?" At my cue, everyone rushed to their seat around the crescent shaped table in the middle of the room, besides Cullen, who took his post near the door.

Ichor raised his hand before asking, "Shouldn't we hurt someone first?"

I shook my head vehemently, fearing the repercussions of allowing Ichor to do as he pleased. "No. Actually, I was thinking of starting with a lecture."

A unanimous groan echoed through the room, which I shushed. "Now, don't give me that look. I'm not _that _boring to listen to."

This comment elicited a snicker from Cullen, which I forced myself to ignore. "Well, I began to wonder, what makes healing magic different from combat magic? More importantly, what makes mages familiar with the school of Creation different from those who struggle with it? As you all know, we mages derive our magical powers from the Fade. The Chantry teaches us, well, more like terrorizes us, to believe the Fade is an evil place. However, that realm is not inherently bad. Much like our own world, it is inhabited by spirits of varying conscience. Of course, we all know about demons who prey upon hapless young mages, looking for ways to wreak havoc on mortals. However, good spirits, ones of valor, compassion, and justice, also make their home in the Fade. Of course, it is easier to make the Fade seem like a nightmarish Hell, and those who have a connection to it are a danger to all 'normal' people-"

"Anders!" Cullen shouted, his face red and stormy. "You are supposed to teach these mages how to heal, not... spread propaganda and ideas of sedition! This isn't a political theory class and..." He glanced at Lucia before lowering his voice, "...not everyone thinks that way. You know, that every mage is a dangerous enemy."

I exhaled and scratched my head, trying to choose my words carefully. "Understanding the Fade is critical to understanding magic. It only frustrates me because... I mean, it's a fear of magic's origin that makes it so unpredictable. It's only mages like myself, who can view magic objectively without fear or hesitance, that can gain full control of their power. But I suppose I did get a bit offtrack..." I finally conceded to pacify Cullen, only so he didn't start crying to Commander Greggy that I was building an underground mage army and planning to overthrow the Chantry. Cullen's face relaxed slightly, and he mumbled some sort of warning with this pathetic pouty look.

"Anyway," I said loudly, and the whisperings over Cullen and I's disagreement stopped. "As I was saying, to properly understand magic, you must understand the Fade. It is easy for most mages to only concentrate only on its evil elements. And _that_ is why we find it so much simpler to set things on fire than restore them. Once you stop envisioning the Fade as scary place where monsters and demons stalk about, ready to feast upon some hapless mage's soul, it becomes much easier to use Creation magic."

"So basically..." Cullen began, with a mockingly curious tone, "...a reckless irreverence for demons and the Fade will make them better healers? Am I really supposed to believe any of this? That you aren't just trying to-"

"Corrupt them? Let them have their own ideas about magic?" Once again, I had to exercise all my self control to not get into another row with Cullen. After taking a deep breath, I said, "Well, I suppose it's a good thing I'm not teaching _you_, otherwise your opinion on the matter would, well, matter." I smiled to diffuse the situation, which almost always works, but Cullen still looked like someone scuffed his shiny templar armor.

In the background, I could hear Lucia trying to calm someone down, presumably Tawna.

"I d-don't think I can do this. Maybe I should quit. Just quit. I'm, I'm too _scared _of the Fade for this to work. I'll just slow you down and..." the young elf girl babbled.

"Don't say that. I'm sure you'll find a way." Lucia consoled Tawna, but her voice was strained. I suspected fits like these were nothing out of the ordinary.

"B-but-"

"Stop your whining," cut in Ichor. "The Circle has no use for flighty little mages like you. Damn knife-ears are always like that."

"Hey!" I heard Jowan shout, normally the timid mouse. "Leave her alone. It's not _her _fault that she's a bit..."

"Nervous?" Lucia supplied, her voice tired from trying to soothe the nearly hysterical Tawna.

"Right." Jowan agreed, crossing his arms and giving her a quick nod.

Ichor looked about ready to sprout wings and start breathing fire, and I needed to get the situation under control. "Well this isn't going anywhere... class dismissed. I'm finished with my lecture so maybe things won't get so heated tomorrow, right?"

The atmosphere was still tense, but everyone was eager enough to leave. Once Cullen ushered the others out the door, I sank into a chair and laid my head on the table's cool surface and let out a tired, unadulterated groan.

"I don't like this..." I sulked, or rather whined. "Maybe I should just let Wynne take over..."

I heard a short laugh behind me, and turned to see Lucia, a hand covering her mouth and her eyes shining with mischievous glee. I could feel my face turning red, which rarely ever happens. Then again, it is rare that I let my guard down in front of anyone else, much less a woman.

"I thought you had left," I said defensively. "And just how long were you planning on standing there anyway?" My voice had risen in pitch, revealing that I still hadn't fully recovered from Lucia's surprise appearance.

The amusement faded from her eyes and her face fell. "I just didn't feel like talking with anyone else, in truth. So I stayed here to be alone..."

"Really?" I said, my voice colored with disbelief. "I always pictured you as the nosy, 'let's stop everything and save kittens from trees' type. Not that there is anything wrong with saving kittens, but you see my point."

Lucia allowed herself a slight smile before biting her lower lip. "I don't know, I try to be understanding and generous, but..."

"But?"

Lucia's eyes tightened as she crossed her arms over her chest. "But I can only take so much! It's a lot of pressure being that one person everyone depends on. And by Andraste, I swear, if Jowan comes crying to me because Lily seems 'moody' one more time I'll... I'll set his knickers on fire!"

Lucia was breathing heavily after her little tirade. I simply stood there, half shocked at the usually gentle Lucia's fury, and half amused at the image of Jowan running about with his trousers on fire. It only took Lucia a few moments to calm down. When she did, her face paled and her eyes grew wide with realization.

"I'm... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell like that. Ah, I feel like a complete fool." Her stormy eyes avoided mine and she stepped back, unsure.

Without hesitation, I walked up to Lucia and placed a hand on her shoulder. She looked up, surprised. I looked her in the eyes and said, "Of course not. Quite the opposite, actually. It's nice to see you are normal and not this... limitless well of benevolence." She laughed at this, and I smiled in return. I was almost tempted to say something along the lines of 'Plus, I like my women feisty' but after seeing that her patience was mostly a façade, I decided against it.

Lucia carefully shrunk away from my hand on her shoulder, uncharacteristically skittish, and began gathering her things. In the silence, my mind began reviewing our conversation.

"Lucia... who is Lily? Isn't there a initiate with that name?"

"Oh? I'm not sure. Maybe yes, maybe no. It's not that important," she said dismissively. I raised an eyebrow, but decided not to question her further.

We said our goodbyes, then Lucia turned around in the doorframe. "By the way, I don't think you should pass the class on to Wynne. You're a good teacher, Anders. Besides, who else would I talk to when I don't feel like talking to anyone?" She chuckled at her own little joke before making her way down the corridor.


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: Here's chapter four, and it was probably my favorite to write (so far). Please please review, I probably won't post five until I have a couple, and it only takes a minute. Well, enjoy~_

_Bioware is the Maker, not me.  
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Now truly alone, I began to gather my belongings and return to my quarters. My encounter with Lucia had been refreshing, but something she said unnerved me. I knew a lovely young initiate named Lily, and Lucia's evasion assured me that they were the same. Of all the pretty ladies devoted to the Maker in the Ferelden Circle, Lily may have been the prettiest of them all. Her soft features gave off an angelic air, but her fiery red mane made her stand out in many a man's fantasies. I, a thoroughly cocky young mage eager for a challenge, attempted to seduce Lily. I was denied with such cold detachment it is a wonder I didn't become celibate out of fear.

I had resolved that it was her blind devotion to the Chantry that resulted in her lack of interest. To discover that Jowan, of all people, could succeed where I had failed, was a bitter pill to swallow. Therefore, I refused to believe it. No doubt my wounded pride played a large part in that decision, but my suspicion was more deeply rooted than that. I knew demons could not be trusted. They will say exactly what you want to hear if it means gaining a foothold in the mortal world. Regardless, the Desire Demon's voice from my Harrowing could not be erased from my memory. If Jowan was a blood mage... then I had been wrong before. Lucia could not protect herself against a friend.

After much deliberation, I found myself somewhere I had rarely visited: the chapel. Amongst all the templars and other preachy types, I felt like an animal out for slaughter. I tried my best to draw attention away from myself while looking for Lily. I hadn't waited terribly long until I spotted a flash of red from the corner of my eye. Lily had entered the prayer space and immediately knelt down, eyes closed as she recited the Chant. Feeling terribly awkward and out of my element, I approached the young initiate.

Lily, hands clasped together, recited verses as she knelt before the statue of Andraste. "Many are those who wander in sin, despairing that they are lost forever..."

Quietly, I cleared my throat and whispered her name. "Lily?"

"But the one who repents, who has faith unshaken by the darkness of the world-"

"Lily. Lilllllllly. Thedas to Lily."

Lily immediately stopped praying and turned to me. She gave me a sneer I'd only ever received from tired barmaids whenever I tried to woo them. "I heard you the first time, you know." She took a deep breath and regained her composure. "Hello Anders. What brings you to the chapel today? Have you come to pray?"

I resisted the urge to scoff and proceeded carefully. "No. Actually, I was... curious about some things and I thought you may be able to help me out."

Her lips pressed into a fine line, but otherwise remained as professional as before. "Of course."

"Thank you. Well, um... how have you been? Feeling alright?" I asked her cautiously. It occurred to me I had no clue what I was even doing. Maybe it was ridiculous of me to think that foul play was involved in Lily and Jowan's association. Neither of them were particularly pleasant people, and it was just as well if they decided to be insufferable together.

She blinked twice, taken aback. "I am fine, thank you for your concern. Is there a purpose to these questions? If not, I'd like to return to my prayer."

"N-no, I mean yes, I do have a purpose. I'd like to know..."

_'Know what, if your boyfriend is a blood mage and if you are his thrall?' _the cynical voice in my head echoed. If, on the off chance, Jowan was a blood mage, why would Lily know? It's completely possible that she was totally in the dark. Or that they were not even romantically involved at all. Maybe she did know he was a maleficar. That doesn't mean she would ever tell me. I could feel myself panicking, doubting this entire theory of mine. The only victims of blood magic I had ever heard of were completely drained of blood, deep gashes along their lifeless corpses...

"Know what?"

I was broken out of my reverie by Lily, her arms folded across her chest and patience wearing thin. The long sleeves of her robes had fallen back, revealing her thin arms. A long series of cuts trailed up them, in various stages of healing.

"Lily, where did you get those wounds?" I said carefully, measuring my tone as to not sound appalled.

"What...?" she whispered in confusion before looking to her bare arms, her eyes wide. "I must have been careless when pruning the rose bushes..."

"You're lying."

She shot me a venomous glare before pulling down her sleeves. "Templar!"

She had called out to an off-duty templar who had been sitting in the pews. "Please escort this mage to his quarters. He is disturbing my prayer time."

"Wait, Lily, you can tell me the truth. If Jowan is-"

"Jowan would never do something like that. He loves me."

I stared at her intently, trying to decipher whether she was lying or telling the truth. Even though I was not particularly fond of Lily or Jowan, I could not stop my heart from twisting in both pity and fear. As the templar grabbed my roughly by the arm and pulled me out of the chapel, I knew one thing for certain. The path Jowan was on would hurt more people than just himself.

The following weeks passed with little disturbance. I continued to teach Lucia and the others healing magic, which had gone smoother than expected. Unsurprisingly, Lucia had picked up on my lessons much faster than the others, and would guide those who struggled with the concept. Though I greatly appreciated her efforts, since it meant I wouldn't have to make them, I could not help but recall our earlier conversation. Regardless, I wouldn't turn down free help.

In addition to preventing magical disasters and ignoring Cullen's incessant nagging, I kept an eye on Jowan at all times. I had been effectively banned from the chapel ever since I first confronted Lily. Luckily, I had seen enough to be convinced Jowan was practicing blood magic. However, he was not acting any different than normal. Following Lucia about like some blindly loyal pup, acting the coward to weasel out of tight spots, and that arrogant, foolish grin of his were the same as ever. I was almost willing to believe that this little hunch of mine was just that, a hunch. That was, until both he and Lucia were absent one morning.

"Cullen..." I called, cross. "Where are Lucia and Jowan this morning?"

"I'm not sure. Not here, apparently. This isn't a mandatory class, Anders, it's not odd they would take a break..." I could hear from his tone he was trying to justify their absence to himself, not me.

"Yes yes, I know. I just find it odd that they would both skip on the same day. They might even be together right now. All alone..."

Cullen's cheeks started to turn pink, which he hid poorly by casually gripping his own chin. "I... I see your point." He now turned to the other two tutees, Ichor and Tawna. "Alright you lot, there isn't much point in meeting today with half the class gone. You are free to go while I, um, search."

I scowled. "That is thinly veiled jealousy if I ever saw it."

Our eyes met and the tension between us was palpable. We stormed off in opposite directions, but with a similar purpose. Cullen aimed to protect his delicate mage flower from Jowan's corruption. I, too, had the same goal. But I was more worried about corruption of the mind, not corruption of the flesh.

I walked down the corridors, silencing my footfalls, a skill I had learned after my third escape attempt. I would press my ear against the wall, listening for a familiar voice. I felt dirty inside, like an overbearing mother or, worse, a templar. I shuddered at the thought.

As I neared a small alcove directly connected to the chapel, I could hear whispering. The conversation was broken and hard to make out, but I recognized the speakers easily.

"...going to make me Tranquil...they'll take everything!" I heard Jowan say, his voice trembling with worry. I pressed my ear to the wall, careful to keep out of site.

All was quiet for a moment, until I heard none other than Lucia break the silence. "That sounds terrible. Are you certain?"

"I saw the documents on Gregoir's table," said another female voice, which I assumed to be Lily's.

"It's going to be alright, Jowan, I promise," Lucia said calmly, but I could hear the strain in her voice.

"No, it won't! They are going to destroy me!" Jowan barked at Lucia. I could imagine the shock on her face, hearing such venom in her best friend's voice. Jowan sighed before continuing. "I won't put Lily through the pain of seeing me like that."

I recoiled from the wall in disgust. I thought back to the still fresh wounds covering Lily's arms. '_Was that pain any different?'_ I wanted to yell, exposing Jowan's lies, his selfishness. But I couldn't, not unless I wanted Lucia to walk into whatever trap Jowan was setting. With a sour expression, I pressed my ear against the wall once more.

"Give us your word that you will help and we will tell you what we intend," said Lily.

I hoped that Lucia would abide by the law like a good little Circle mage. I hoped she would put her own safety before a friend's. I hoped she would run out of that room and scream at the top of her lungs that a blood mage was attempting to escape. In the end, all my pleas were for naught.

"Of course. You have my word."


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: Sorry about the uber short chapter, I didn't space these out very well while I was writing. I have another 2k words lounging about after this, but I've been putting this on the back-burner somewhat, seeing as there aren't too many people keeping up with the story, apparently. And there is this lovely little Snape oneshot that's been creeping about... :D. Anyway, enjoy!_

_Bioware=The Maker. Not me._

The rest of their conversation consisted of the plan to destroy Jowan's phylactery and allow he and Lily to escape undetected. Most of the information I had already gathered from my own escapes, and I had suppress a snort when Lily said 'What's a door to mages?'. Nothing, unless another mage had the brains to put up a magical ward. After Lucia agreed to visit Owain, I made haste towards the storeroom and away from my conspicuous hiding spot.

When Lucia came into view, I was sitting nonchalantly on a crate and leaning against a pillar, much to Owain's displeasure. She did not notice me at first, clutching her robes tightly and being careful to avoid eye-contact with anything besides her shoes. Maker, she did _not _have a talent for subterfuge. She was lucky to have been born a mage and not a rogue.

Before she came too close to Owain, I coughed loudly to grab her attention. It worked, and her eyes grew wide. Before she could open her mouth, I grabbed her by the waist in a friendly greeting and began to deter her from her goal.

"Heeeeeeeey!" I drawled, drowning out her protests. "I was just looking for you!"

She looked back at the storeroom anxiously, but I pretended not to notice. Once we were out of sight, she stomped on my foot before peeling my hand away from her waist. "Do you mind?" She asked indignantly, her cheeks tinged with embarrassment.

"Oh. Right. Sorry," I apologized, backing away hastily. "I just wanted to know... err... why you weren't in class today."

Her mouth made a little 'o' of realization before she answered me, "Ah, yes. I'm so sorry. It totally slipped my mind. I thought it was tomorrow."

I crossed my arms. "Lucia, we meet every morning."

She opened her mouth to say something, but closed it, crossing her arms in return and frowning. I sighed and rubbed my temples. "Lucia, you don't have to lie to me. Is there something wrong? I'm worried."

Part of me felt guilty for deceiving her this way, but I convinced myself it was for her own good. Lucia huffed like a child receiving a lecture, before hanging her head in defeat.

"I was just... helping a friend."

"Jowan?"

She gasped and uncrossed her arms. "You... knew?"

"Now I do."

Her jaw dropped and she swatted me on the arm, and I chuckled good-naturedly.

"Well, now you know why I wasn't there. Good. I'll be leaving, then..." she said, turning away from me. I caught her by the arm and she stared at my hand on her arm, unsure.

"Lucia."

I only had to say her name and she looked up with big, baleful eyes. I let go of her arm, only to take her hand. She blushed, but didn't let go. Thank Andraste for small mercies. I squeezed her hand lightly, forcing her to look up at me.

"Please?"

She gave an exasperated sigh and I was afraid she would say no. I gave her my best hurt puppy look and she rolled her eyes. "Fine."

She yanked her hand from mine and turned away from me, rubbing her upper arms vigorously as if hit by a cold wind. I snickered at her virginal embarrassment. I was met with a impatient scowl and a rough tug on my arm.

"Come on! Don't dawdle."

Lucia walked ahead briskly, drawing some questioning looks from the other apprentices and a few templars. Without pause, she turned and entered a small room filled with broken furniture and discarded books. I closed the door behind me to find Lucia already slumped in a tilted armchair. I sat down next to her, pulling my knees up to avoid kicking a precarious looking armoire. Lucia looked straight ahead, resting her chin on her palm.

"They are going to make Jowan Tranquil."

Even though I already knew this, hearing Lucia say it, her voice heavy with sorrow, was sobering. "He... we want to destroy his phylactery and get him away from the Circle."

"Are you sure about this?" I asked, careful not to sound condescending. "The templars will _kill _you if they find out. Literally."

Lucia sighed and began wringing her hands. "I know, I know. But... I can't just stand by and let them do this! It's wrong. They're wrong..."

Lucia pressed her palms against her eyes to push back the tears threatening to fall. Even though I thought I knew the truth, Lucia's trust and tears made me doubt myself. Still, I couldn't let her risk her life over a blood mage and traitor.

"Lucia... you know what they say. About Jowan being a... a blood mage."

She lifted her head up, her stormy blue eyes tight with anger. "You don't know that," she spat.

"And neither do you!"

Her face softened with an ancient sadness and I immediately regretted my outburst. What was I doing, pushing her away? I was only making things worse. I was still berating myself when Lucia's voice broke the silence.

"I know," she whispered with a bitter smile. "Maybe he is a blood mage. And maybe I am being a fool."

She stood up from her chair and straightened her robes. Her mouth was set in a defiant grin and I could only look up in admiration. "None of that matters though. He is my friend, and I _must _have faith in him. If not, then..." She flashed me a smile and offered her hand. "I might as well be Tranquil."


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: Hello there! This chapter has quite a bit of non-canonical, original stuff. I hope you like it anyhow! Please review, and I always return the favor!_

_I do not own Dragon Age, or anything else for that matter. Just my words._

Hours passed, and I now found myself pacing about the chamber leading to the basement. I had taken great pains to conceal my whereabouts and assuage any templar suspicions, specifically Cullen's. More than once I had considered telling Irwin or even a templar what Jowan and the others intended to do beforehand; they'd receive a slap on the wrist instead of the hangman's noose. My pride quickly dashed those thoughts away. Since when had the templars ever fulfilled the 'protect' part of their duty? And after seeing Lucia's conviction, I couldn't do so with a clear conscience. What if Lucia never decided to visit me in that repressive hellhole? Where would I be now? My hairs bristled at the possibilities.

At that moment, I heard footsteps heading my direction. Since they didn't clatter like greaves do on stone, it must have been another mage. The only people with business here were Irwin and...

"Anders?"

Lucia burst into view, her silvery plait swinging behind her like a pendulum. She placed a hand on her heart and took a deep breath, but still managed to beam up at me. I suppose even the most loyal Circle mages can be an adventurer at heart.

Jowan and Lily were not far behind, and looking not nearly as excited about their endeavor. Lily's face was pale and she clutched at Jowan's hand, which I would imagine was a bit clammy if his damp forehead were any indication.

"Why is _he _here?" Jowan asked, pointing an accusatory finger.

"To help you escape, obviously. They tell me I'm quite good at it, you know."

Jowan sighed and glanced over at Lucia with contempt. "Why should I trust you, of all people? We aren't friends, so why put your neck-"

"Jowan," Lucia snapped, cutting him off. "It's free help, and if it gets you and Lily out of here, isn't it worth it?"

Jowan pursed his lips before finally throwing his arms up in defeat. "Fine! But don't expect me to be okay with him watching my back."

I rolled my eyes. "Don't worry. Not interested."

"I... what?"

Jowan looked both bewildered and embarrassed, his cheeks turning pink. I gave him a friendly slap on the shoulder and a wink.

"First bit of advice, don't make a big spectacle before you even start. Save that for when you're caught and want to go out with a bang."

Jowan gulped and began to descend the steps of the basement, Lily following close behind like a rag doll. I followed suit, ignoring my better judgement. Behind me, Lucia closed the basement door, leaving us in absolute darkness. Behind me, I heard the internal latch shut. Our only choice now was to move forward, into the repository, the catalyst of our fate.

The chill of those dark catacombs reminded me of the dungeons. In those days, the only method of keeping time I had was Lucia. Once a week, she would come visit my cell and we would read together. Casting a spell was not an option when a templar, who would be all too happy to kill me if given the chance, stood only a few feet away. That meant the only time I could read Clinton Amell's journal was when Lucia could smuggle a candle or two. Unsurprisingly, a tower filled to the brim with pyrokinetics had little use for things like flint and tinder. I was almost thankful that I couldn't cast a spell. Lucia's brief visits were what got me through each day (even though I couldn't tell where one ended and another began). Then again, even a genlock would have seemed an agreeable companion at the time.

On one such visit, while Lucia and I were leafing through the mage's account, she hesitated to read one particular entry.

"Is it dirty?" I asked coyly, trying to peer over the journal and read the hidden missive. "I'll try not to blush and giggle too much."

She blew a loose strand of hair out of her face before answering. "That's _not _it."

"Well then, what is?"

Lucia pursed her lips, deep in thought. "Fine. I'll read it."

She took a deep breath and relit the candle, which had become a mere stub, before beginning the entry.

"8th of Solis, 8:71 Blessed. This date marks the start of a new expedition. A group of so-called opportunists, better known as highwaymen, are to be my traveling companions. I am well aware of the venomous tone I take in regards to these miscreants, but be assured it is not without reason.

"About three weeks ago I was contacted by the leader of the group, a lady Dawna. She was a young and beautiful elven woman, despite the scars that cut across her face in all directions. Dawna seemed to have more energy than two men combined. She walked with a spring in her step that seemed childish at first, but that agility was beyond deadly in battle. Although I was hired as an apothecary, there were rumors about my status as an apostate. I saw the apprehensive glances from the other men, but Dawna didn't give way to such folly. I was useful, which was all that seemed to matter.

"26th of Solis, 8:71 Blessed. As someone who has lived a harder life than most, unable to rely on others, I have always thought of myself as wise beyond my years. But occasionally I prove myself wrong, the naivety of youth clouding my judgement.

"While scouting a cave, we encountered a foe I had thought only a legend. Darkspawn attacked our party, their rotting flesh and breath rancid enough to make bile rise and burn my throat. Apparently the cave was a side entrance to the Deep Roads, and we had encountered its most famous inhabitants. They were only stragglers , but half of the man panicked and fled. Dawna charged ahead, dismembering darkspawn left and right. By the time all our enemies had been felled, Dawna had sustained a grievous injury. A hurlock had bitten clear through her arm and, though I didn't know at the time, cursed her with the taint.

"I used up all my poultices trying to heal her wound, but to no avail. It began to fester before my very eyes, and black bruises spread across her skin like wildfire. Her bright eyes had begun to dull, and her face turned a sickly grey color. Desperate, I pressed my palms against her chest and tried to channel all my energy into healing her. The green glow enveloping my hands began to spread over her, the dark bruises receding. Her eyes widened and I smiled, elated at my success.

"She scurried away from me and, with a single barked order, two men rushed me and twisted my arms behind my back. Dawna, blood staining the front of her breastplate, drew her weapon and glared at me with contempt. It was as if my saving her life meant nothing, as if I were a bandage to be used and not a living being. It was in that moment I lost it. With strength I never knew I possessed, I ripped myself free from my captors' grasp. I cast a poorly controlled fireball in my fit, knocking the remaining men against the stone wall. Brave as ever, Dawna began circling around me, dagger in hand. The rage her betrayal had stirred in me drowned out all reason, and I sent shards of ice her way. A larger fragment pierced the elven woman's armor, no doubt reopening the wound I had spent so much energy healing.

"As I watched her sink to the ground, her heaving coughs echoing throughout the cave, I sank to my knees as well. I stared at my hands, disgusted with myself. Had I really believed she would not care that I was a mage? Foolishly, I had thought those that lived on the fringes of society would accept a fellow outcast, even if he was a mage. It was a hopeless dream. To the rest of the world, every mage is a maleficar and every maleficar is an abomination so we should all be burned at the stake. But even that would be impossible, because flames like Andraste's would be too merciful for monsters like us."


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N: Hello readers! It's been a little while. I've been busy with school and the like. But this chapter has actually been written for a while, eheh. I try to give myself a little cushion so I still have something to post if I can't write. Oh, and sorry it's a bit short. I'm terrible at planning chapters out :(_

The events of that unfortunate man kept replaying themselves in my head. What if my good intentions were for naught? What if Lucia and I were expendable, those foolish enough to assist Jowan with his fool's errand? I continued to doubt myself as we followed the poorly-lit path ahead of us.

"How far down _is _this place?" Lily whined, pulling up the hem of her robes as to not trip over them.

"Keep in mind we live in a tower, Lily," Jowan answered lightly, but his tone was patronizing.

Lucia walked a few paces ahead, a spell wisp hovering about to light the dark cavern. I could not help but wonder at how charmingly naive she looked, marching ahead with a determined look on her face, but her eyes still gleaming with excitement. Lost in my musings, I nearly bumped into Jowan who had suddenly stopped.

"This is it. The Chantry calls this entrance the victims' door. It has two hundred and fifty-seven planks, one for each original templar. It is a reminder-"

"Very interesting Lily," I interrupted, rolling my eyes. "So do you have a way in?"

Lily bit her lower lip, eyes narrowed. "Fine, fine. I'll say the password, then you must touch the door with mana." She cleared her throat and held out her outstretched palm, almost as if she were casting a spell herself.

"Sword of the Maker, tears of the Fade."

At her words, a pressure in my head I had not even noticed was relieved. Nodding towards Lily, Lucia pressed her fingertips to the aged wood. At her touch, the door swung open as if by some unseen force.

"Creepy," I muttered, before shrugging and continuing forward. I didn't have to walk for long though.

"Oh you _must _be joking."

In front of us stood yet another door. We were only a few riddle-telling trolls short of a bad adventure tale. The others looked so utterly defeated that I couldn't help but snicker at their expense.

"Don't you worry, I'll take care of this," I said smugly. "Knickers of Andraste, hem of the Veil!"

Lily gasped at the mention of His bride's underthings, but a giggle escaped Lucia's lips. Jowan groaned and she promptly stopped, but the corners of her mouth continued to twitch.

"Did you go to the storeroom, Lucia?" Jowan asked, his voice monotone.

Lucia nodded and procured a rod of fire from her pack. I cocked an eyebrow as she prodded the door's lock, but to no avail.

"I can't use magic here," Lucia stated, her brow creased.

"This must be the templars' work. Of course! I should have guessed," Lily said scathingly. "How do you keep mages away from something? Make their powers completely useless." Her amber eyes were bright with passion and rage.

"What? Now what are we supposed to do?" Jowan cried, wringing his hands.

I cleared my throat and all the headless chickens turned their gaze towards me. "Ah, well, I'm assuming you didn't think this far ahead," I said with a smirk. "Luckily, there happens to be _another _door over there."

I gestured towards a plain wooden door that looked like it led to a cupboard, not a treasure trove of magical artifacts. Lucia walked ahead and, with an unseemly shout, kicked off the latch. The door swung open, revealing an open room full of ancient-looking ornaments.

She looked over her shoulder and shrugged at her gaping friends. "I was tired of charms and all that other hogwash. A swift kick still works well enough, right?" She smiled wide, signaling us to laugh, but silence hung in the air. Lucia's shoulders slumped as she strode on ahead, using her staff as a walking-stick.

The door had taken us to the area which contained dangerous magical objects, not the phylacteries. This meant fighting our way through a small army of spirit sentinels, navigating a maze of Tevinter statues and forbidden tomes, and pilfering some of the more useful articles. We were all exhausted afterward, but we finally found what we were searching for. The repository was cloaked in a mysterious haze that drained all warmth from the small room. I had to resist the urge to conjure a fire wisp, lest it go awry and disturb any of the hundred of vials situated precariously above.

"Wow..." Lucia breathed, and I could only silently agree. In each vial was one mage's key to freedom, and I bitterly regretted that mine was probably locked away somewhere in Denerim.

"We should spread out an search for Jowan's phylactery..." Lily muttered, and we all drifted apart to different corners of the repository. Every phylactery looked the same, opaque glass vials filled with murky red liquid, the blood separated and unnatural-looking. I strained my eyes in the low light to read the names carved into the glass base.

"I found it!" Lucia called, her voice light with relief. We all rushed over, careful not to accidentally send the other phylacteries cascading down.

Lucia cradled the flask as if it were a precious babe, shielding it from harm. Jowan snatched the phylactery away, holding it up to the light and inspecting the carving at the bottom.

"You found it! That's my phylactery. I can't believe this tiny vial stands between me and freedom," Jowan said, his eyes wild with excitement.

Lily, Lucia and I were stunned into silence, enraptured by the aura of power emanating from the flask. Jowan rolled the vial's neck between his fingers.

"So fragile, so easy to get rid of it, to end its hold over me..." Jowan whispered, his eyes glazed over as if hypnotized. He relinquished his grasp on the vial and it plummeted to the stone. It shattered, the sound of broken glass resonated through the grim chamber, blood spreading over the floor and trickling through crevices like crimson rivers.


	8. Chapter 8

_**A/N: Sorry it's been so long without an update. I kinda had to push through the end, but now that means I can get to the core of the story. Yay! Anders will reward you with his Spicy Shimmy if you review~**_

_**Dragon Age is the property of Bioware, I only bastardize their creation ;)**  
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Jowan was the first to speak, lifting his head to reveal a ghostly expression. His mouth pursed in a baleful smile and he gazed at a statue bearing a lance and shield. "And I am free."

We all stood there, frozen in a state of shock. Lucia was the first to speak, her voice soft and careful. "Let's leave this place, I don't want to stay here."

She glanced at Jowan when she said that, and I sidled closer to her, small sparks dancing across my fingertips. The realization of what I'd done had begun to sink in. After seeing the visceral pleasure Jowan had taken after breaking his phylactery, there was little doubt in my mind he was a blood mage. As we ascended the stairs leading out of the repository, Jowan held Lily tightly by the arm, who hadn't said anything since we'd entered the repository.

When we reached the door that opened up to the first floor, Lucia hesitated. Her hand held the knob, fingers shaking. Jowan scowled. "Why are you stopping?"

"I..." was all she could manage before Jowan pushed her aside and thrust open the door.

At first, the light blinded me. I tried to shield my eyes, but something out of the corner of my eye forced me to focus. Silverite armor emblazoned with Andraste's holy symbol surrounded us, and my muscles twitched with anticipation and raw power. Greagoir, the templar leading the pack, drew his sword and pointed it at Jowan's chin.

"We found you, blood mage."

I knew this would happen. I knew Jowan was a blood mage, and I knew nobody would take his disappearance lightly. Even so, the sight of a half-dozen angry templars still sent chills down my spine, amplified by the cold sweat trickling down my back.

Irving stepped forward, the corners of his mouth downturned. Although I've never had great respect for that old curmudgeon, I could not force myself to make eye contact with him. "I could not believe Cullen when he told me, but I see it was true. An initiate, my star pupil, and a newly Harrowed mage conspiring with a maleficar."

"First Enchanter! I-" Lucia cried before being cut off.

"Enough of this!" Greagoir bellowed, "It's your dancing around the problem, Irving, that allowed something like this to happen. I will see you all hanged. Except for you, Lily. You've sullied your vows to the Maker, and you'll suffer for it."

My stomach coiled in knots after seeing the unbridled rage burning in Greagoir's eyes. It was not the first time I feared for my life, but it was the first time death seemed certain. Before I could run, beg, or retaliate, a hoarse growl in my ear brought me back to the situation at hand.

"No!" Jowan shouted before shoving me aside, dragging Lily along with him. "You won't take her from me!"

Before I could even catch my balance, Jowan procured a silver dagger from the hem of his robes. With one swift movement, he brought the dagger down and slashed open his palm, blood soaking his sleeve and the ground below. With a wicked gleam in his eye, Jowan thrust his arms at the templars, sending splashes of blood flying.

I tried to retaliate with a well placed lightning bolt, but my whole body had gone numb. Then, one by one, the oh-so-fearsome templars fell to their knees, writhing in pain. Before I realized what was happening, a surge of pain assaulted my entire body. My legs gave way under me, and I became a crumpled heap on the hard floor. That initial jolt of pain subsided but left in its place a burning sensation that wracked my weary body. It was as if a thousand fire ants were crawling under my skin, and I wanted nothing more than to escape what had become a torture chamber. A disembodied scream echoed through the hall that I later realized was mine. The last thing I remember was Jowan's image fading into the distance and Lucia's silver hair caked in blood.

"I am sorry, Irving, but I cannot leave empty-handed."

A deep, gravely voice roused me into consciousness. Irving and another man were speaking in hushed tones a few feet away. Pale light streamed from the dirty windows up high, a welcome sight after spending the night in the cellar. The bed I occupied was narrow and my feet peeked out of the white linens. I noticed men I knew as templars in their smalls, lying on cots similar to mine. I was in the infirmary, and the events that landed me there rushed into my mind. I groaned at the memory, causing four sets of eyes to focus on me.

"You're awake, I see," a reproachful voice said, one I knew to be Wynne's.

"You seem awfully happy about that," I replied, annoyed.

"First thing you do after waking is sass the person who healed you. Maker have mercy..."

"Thank you, Wynne," another voice interrupted. Lucia sat on the bed adjacent to me, and bowed her head to Wynne.

The senior enchanter stood and gathered herself. "Tis no trouble, my dear," Wynne said gently before turning to Irving and the stranger. "First Enchanter. Ser Duncan."

She left with a curt nod and I propped myself up on my elbows, my shoulders tense. Irving looked stoic as ever, his face set in a permanent grimace. The man called Duncan next to him wore the same tired look, but without quite as many wrinkles. He wore intricately embroidered plate similar to the templars', but the tanned leather that comprised the rest of his armor gave him a barbaric, rugged look.

Silence hung heavy in the air, and I could hear the faint sounds of footsteps from a distance. I opened my mouth to say something, _anything_, to ease the tension but the power of speech decided to leave me. Irving cleared his throat and addressed the warrior beside him.

"I apologize you had to witness this, my friend. I wish I could say breaches like this were a rare occurrence, but I can not," he said stiffly, glaring at me all the while.

"Irving, don't stress yourself. The Grey Wardens accept those from all walks of life, reputable or no."

"Wait..." I interjected, "You're a Grey Warden?"

"Yes. I've come in search of recruits. The darkspawn hoard is amassing in the south, and we are in dire need of forces to fend them off. And not just for the battle at Ostagar." Duncan said somberly, his eyes dark.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw another man shift in his bed. I hadn't noticed him before without his templar regalia, but his sandy curls and hint of a goatee were unmistakable.

Cullen freed himself from the mountain of bedding on top of him and leaned forward, arching his back. He turned to look at Lucia, her eyes downcast, before addressing the Grey Warden.

"Are you here for Lucia?" Cullen growled, the hostility in his voice barely contained through his clenched teeth.

Duncan raised his eyebrows, taken aback by Cullen's tone. "She is definitely up for consideration, yes."

"She just helped a blood mage escape, and you want to set her free?"

I could almost see Cullen's anger bubbling beneath the surface, and it triggered my own. "So you want to condemn her, have them send her to Aeonar, or worse?" I snapped.

My outburst silenced Cullen, and he leaned back to sulk. Irving sighed and shook his head. "I will not sentence you to death for one mistake, Lucia. However..."

Irving turned his weary gaze to me, and my heart began to sink. "Anders. I have given you so many second chances, and yet you persist. Breaking into the repository, helping a blood mage escape, I cannot ignore what you've done this time-"

"No!" Lucia shouted, magic crackling in the air. "It's not his fault. He tried to warn me, to tell me Jowan was a blood mage but I... wouldn't listen."

Silence once again cloaked the small room. In the confusion, I had not once stopped to think about how Lucia must have felt. Her best friend betrayed her trust and left her to face the consequences, including the guilt of bringing me down with her. I wanted to tell her it wasn't her fault, but I knew it would sound like a lie, even to myself.

Duncan cleared his throat. "What's done is done. But the darkspawn threat remains, Irving..."

Irving opened his mouth to speak, but failed to utter a sound. Lucia stood up, grasping her staff until her knuckles turned white. She took a shaky breath before addressing the Grey Warden. "Fine. I will do whatever you ask, Duncan. I have only one condition."

Lucia looked Irving dead in the eyes, her brow creased. "Don't punish him for my own foolishness. That is all I ask."

Without another word, Lucia strode out of the infirmary, leaving only a pervading cold in her wake.


End file.
